Deals with Devils
by Rakune
Summary: A life of basketball—doesn't that sound nice? Nash Gold Jr. used to think that, but times change. Hearts of gold do go cold after all, and sometimes, we give up God for a demon and love for sorrow. (Originally posted on Ao3.)


Nash Gold Jr. was nine years old when he first picked up a basketball.

The fifth graders played the sport—which automatically made it cool. Nash found what would rule over his life in such a simple manner that it was almost saddening. It was nothing dramatic, nothing special, but it was still one of the most important things that ever happened in his life.

Now, he kind of wish it never happened.

He was glad it happened back then, though. He gained his first friends, who were all cool upper years, and he had an extra activity that wasn't related to church. Not that he had anything against the church—his mom was always telling him to pray, and Nash didn't think his mom could ever be wrong. So, when his mom told him that he would be a basketball star if he worked hard enough, he believed her, and because she believed in God, he did as well.

He dreamed of going pro. It was possible. He was so strong and fast, but he knew that wasn't enough. He had to go beyond the fundamentals—he needed to polish his technique until it shined like gold glinting under the desert sun. His hands and the ball got along. He fought against gravity as he blocked opponent after opponent, tenaciously and repeatedly shot basket after basket, and grew faster and faster, making his technique more and more efficient. He oiled himself to become a basketball machine—with the precision used to sew with a needle and a calculator to help him decide the best kind of play to use. He controlled the game, while at the same time, it swallowed him up whole.

He was glad for it. He was happy to be immersed in a world of basketball, a world where 40 minutes meant everything.

But times turned tough. Nash Gold Sr. was very much like his junior. When he was passionate about something, he drowned in it. He played games with what he owned, trading dollars for excitement, leading to loss and despair. Debt piled on debt, and betrayal tore them apart. Mother refused to touch the father, so the son glued the broken pieces together.

It would never last.

Nash Jr. did the best thing he could think of doing to help—getting a scholarship by doing what he loved. High school was tough. He was surrounded by kids taller and stronger than him. They respected him for his sharp mind and precise technique. A few thought he wasn't worthy—after all, he was mostly a "pass-first" PG. What good were those kind of point guards when they couldn't even carry the team?

Nash created perfect play after perfect play, but his teammates didn't want to play. "How can I pull out the best from you, if you want even put in your best?" He asked these words many times. At most, they riled up his teammates, and the volume of the ball bouncing on the shiny gym floors increased. But usually, nothing happened. Nothing at all.

"Sorry, Nash, but it's been a tiring day. I don't want to practice anymore." With a yawn, they left him alone in the gym to practice his footwork—oh, repetitiveness! It was his only friend, and the only one who cared about basketball.

One day, the mostly absent coach called him. "You haven't lead the team to success. We can't even reach the quarterfinals. You're doing everything wrong."

Nash wanted to say that it was the coach who was doing everything wrong, but technically, the coach wasn't doing anything at all, so he kept himself from insulting the man and told him the truth in the nicest way possible. "I can't pull out the best of those who aren't trying their best."

The coach's eyebrows furrowed, as he put his hand to his chin, as if he were thinking hard about what Nash said.

(He obviously wasn't.)

"Unfortunately, you didn't get the job done," the coach said firmly. "We're kicking you off the team."

Nash gaped at the coach. He had to be kidding. Nash was the most diligent and talented player on the team by far! Plus, this was his chance to become recognized as a player. He _needed_ to play. "Please, Coach. Give me one more chance. I'll get the job done!"

The coach sighed. "Fine, Gold. Another chance."

Nash Gold Jr. believed in many things. He believed in his mom's ability to fix their family, he believed that God was watching over him, he believed that basketball was the best thing he could ever be doing and he believed in himself.

All crushed after a bit more than 40 minutes.

They hadn't even reached the quarterfinals.

"Coach…" Nash couldn't even face him. "Look, you know how hard I work—" Or rather, he doesn't because he never attends practices. "Please, let me stay on the team. After all, if you're kicking me out, shouldn't you be kicking everyone else out?"

The coach rolled his eyes. "Look, kid. Do you know why I don't bother to try? Do you think I'm some sort of heartless shit that's just out to hurt you and crush your poor feelings? No. Think again. What makes you different from your teammates?"

Now, that was an easy question to answer. "My passion for basketball."

"Exactly." The coach sighed. "That… it will hurt you one day." When Nash didn't say anything, the coach decided to elaborate. "You seem like the type that wants to go pro, but that's never going to happen. The pros all have abilities that are almost magical. You _don't_."

"I'm worthy of it," the golden-haired boy claimed. "I deserve to be a pro. I've tried so hard, at least let me have the chance—"

"There is no point. You're off of the team, Nash Gold Jr."

This angered him. His coach was wrong. He would prove it.

He hung out at the nearby streetball court, wanting to prove to himself that he was _worthy_. He had a chance. His mom believed in him, God believed in him, he believed in himself. He would not let his hard work get crushed by some bullshit his useless coach cooked up.

He should've expected to be proved wrong.

No one actually called him weak, but he could feel how they looked down on him. He never wanted to experience it again.

The next day, at mass, he was supposed to recite the words he had said so often. They never seemed to lose meaning, and they never did through his whole life, but for the first time, he didn't say the words.

 _I'm not worthy that you should enter under my roof_.

He was sick of thinking he wasn't worthy. He was _worthy_. He was worthy to be a player, and if God was stopping him, if God didn't believe in him, he'd just have to stop following God.

That night, a voice spoke to him about the power he wished for. "Even God cannot defeat you with this power... You need not serve me if you accept. You shall lead with power and you shall never be doubted again." Of course he accepted.

The Belial Eye let him defeat anyone and everyone on the court. Using the precision he worked so hard to build and his wide field of vision, he didn't lead the team. He _controlled_ them. He perfected his pass and realized that even with the power he had desired, he was still sad.

His coach had been right.

There was no point.

Back then, he loved the game, but would never have the chance to play. Now, he had the chance to play, but... he couldn't bring himself to love the game again. There was really no point to basketball. No matter what, you ended up sad.

He needed to stop people from playing it. Silver was the perfect companion. They both crushed everyone together and told them to stop playing.

Although he never said it aloud, inside, he was thinking, _It's for your own good_.

When they go to Japan, Nash is eager to find the kids who have apparently entered the Zone, a state which he himself will never enter. He has to tell them, no, he has to show them (because that's the only way it will work out), basketball only hurts you.

He doesn't know how, but they beat Jabberwock. Silver complains, but Nash shuts him up, although he can't believe that for once, Silver _wants_ to play again. The almighty Silver who never trained, who, just like him, had made a deal with the devil wished to experience that rush more. Maybe it will work out. When he hears that Kagami Taiga is planning to join the NBA, he starts hoping again.

He hopes that maybe they'll play as pros one day, and that maybe, just maybe, he can remember the spark he used to feel when he played almost ten years ago...


End file.
